


Intense research

by hifftn



Category: MLQC - Fandom, 恋与制作人 | Liàn Yǔ Zhì Zuò Rén | Mr. Love: Queen's Choice (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, No Spoilers, some fingering, some fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2020-12-27 01:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hifftn/pseuds/hifftn
Summary: During one of the usual reports Victor finds some of your notes for a rather sexual topic...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers in this one, just some embarrassment and frustration.

“And as you can see here our ratings improved by 1.3% to last month’s results.” Wrapping up my report I clutch my notes, glad it’s done for today. Of course I still have to sit through Victor’s evaluation, which is the hardest part, but I’m confident he won’t have that many items on his list this time. I spent hours and hours preparing; between managing my company and researching for new formats it was hell and I’m sure it pays off.   
“Not too bad,” he comments and flips to the next page of his copy of the report. “I do have some questions, though.”   
“Of course,” I readily reply, brace myself for his usually harsh but constructive criticism.   
“I see how your new deal with that company to create their advertisements helped getting more clients, but where is the connection to women not reaching climax when they are in bed with men?” He doesn’t even look up, just flips through the pages once more.   
I freeze.   
“What?”   
“Here it says: ‘68% of women claim to never or very rarely have an orgasm with a male partner. In same sex arrangements it’s only 12%, and while masturbating only 5% say they never reach climax’.”   
This is the moment my soul leaves my body. My knees are trembling and my belly feels as if I swallowed a rock.   
“What?” I repeat only for him to look up, eyebrows knitted so the crease between them deepens.   
“You already said that. Ask something new, I’m not going to read that part again.” 

\------------------------------------  
“This will open a whole new market segment for us,” Anna insisted.   
“But, do we really want to produce formats like that? I always thought we are more like a family company. From our family to all the families out there.” I gnawed at my bottom lip as I read through the proposal she had handed me earlier that day.   
“Families don’t only consist of kids, you know? Mom and Dad also need some private time every now and then,” Willow piped up.   
“But, but…”  
“They offer a very generous sum of money for this job,” Anna pointed out. “And we can make sure it’s not some smutty story we show, but make it fresh, get it out of the gutter.”   
Female orgasms - not the topic I would ever have made a format about. On the other hand she’s right, I can’t just turn down an offer like this one.   
“Fine,” I agreed with a sigh. “But I will write the script myself. Can’t take any risks with this one.”   
So I researched everything regarding that topic, next to writing the report and a dozen of other tasks I had to take care of.  
\---------------------------------

“Oh no… oh my goodness…” I leap forwards and grab the report, but he doesn’t let go of it.   
“This is a mistake… my notes must have gotten mixed with the report…”   
“So this is what you do in your free time? Because I can’t imagine this is work related.” With a firm tug he pulls the report from my hand, opens it at the offending page.   
“Actually it is,” I mumble, hanging my head in defeat.   
“Really? This is a topic people are actually interested in?” He raises one eyebrow, stares back at the numbers and statistics on the page.   
“Apparently.” After all someone tasked us to produce a segment with this.   
“The numbers can’t be right.” He takes a pen and scribbles something on my notes.   
“They are. I was really thorough while researching.” Even asked some institute for sex education as well as some specialists on that topic.   
“But 68%? Why don’t they just change the partner if they are not satisfied with their performance?”  
“First of all, I assume it’s even more. This is one of the topics were people tend to lie, just to not upset their partners. Especially women.” His cocky tone doesn’t sit well with me so I get a bit snippy. “And second, you don’t just replace a partner you love just because it’s not all fireworks in bed. There’s more to a relationship after all.”   
I clench my fists, here is obviously someone who has no clue about love and sex in relationships. Oh, I don’t doubt that Victor has no problems finding a partner, but I doubt he ever had a real relationship.   
“But if people tend to lie when it comes to this topic, how do you expect to present actual facts and not just some sugarcoated version of it?” He puts the report down, obviously enjoying challenging me and my work again.   
“Listen, this is a sensitive topic and I’m aware this is a bit out of our usual profile, but it’s really interesting and I can see a lot of people watching a well-made documentary about a sexual topic because they are too afraid or shy or to ask someone about it.” I’m rambling, this is hitting too close to home for me.   
“Still, I think if your partner isn’t satisfying your need you are responsible for changing that. If they are not putting in enough effort you have to either tell them or break up. Go and find someone who’s also sexually compatible with you and you won’t ever have to complain again.” He stares at me, almost challengingly, with his chin jutted out and his eyes narrowed slightly.   
“You make it sound as if having an orgasm is the only reason to have sex and if your partner can’t get you there, the whole relationship is worthless.” I shake my head, it’s hard to tell whether he really believes this or whether he is just riling me up.   
“If I was wrong, why would you even consider producing a segment on this topic?” Again, one of his questions I can’t really answer. No matter how confident I feel when I go into our meetings, when I get out I always feel like an idiot.   
“It’s not as if the female orgasm is the be all, end all of sexual encounters, but shouldn’t those who have trouble reaching it be allowed to talk or ask questions? If only to figure out how to make it work? It’s a nice addition to sex after all, if both of the people involved reach climax. But it’s not the only reason to engage in sexual activities.” This time I won’t back down.   
“Let me sum it up for you. A man, any man, should be able to get his partner there and if he can’t, he’s not putting in enough effort. Of course I agree, both sides should enjoy the encounter, but if they don’t, they shouldn’t pretend everything is fine if it’s not.” He shrugs, rubs his temples with his fingertips. “Five minutes and two fingers, that’s all it needs to get a woman there.”   
I’m speechless. Did he just really say that?   
“You are aware that a female orgasm is complex and that simple physical stimulation isn’t a guarantee for reaching it, aren’t you? Of course the technique and willingness of the male partner is essential, but so are other factors.” My brain works in overdrive; no surprise since all my blood rushed to my head at the beginning of this conversation. Now my blush is not only from embarrassment, but also from anger.   
“As which?”   
“Mood, for example. Hormonal status. Form on that day. Stress. There a dozen and more and sometimes the male partner can try as hard as he wants, he still won’t be able to get her there. Not if not everything else fits, too.” Oops, that could be taken the wrong way.   
“I can say so far every woman I’ve been with had no difficulties reaching her climax.” He leaned back in his chair as if the discussion is over for him. It isn’t, at least not for me.   
“Yeah, as if they would tell you.” I roll my eyes and huff a chuckle.   
“What do you mean?” He’s sitting up straighter again, focusing on me now completely. Yikes.  
“I mean, often women won’t say anything. Not only that, they sometimes fake an orgasm just so they don’t have to have a discussion about the whole thing.” There, I said it!   
“So you’re implying I can’t satisfy my partners and don’t even realize when they fake an orgasm?” His voice drops, almost to a low growl. Dammit, he’s angry.  
“Well, I wouldn’t blame them. I mean, I wouldn’t want a crushing review from you in that regard, either. So yeah, before they have to listen to you blaming them for not coming - and I bet you would, since your performance is flawless of course - they pretend they came and that’s it.” I lay thick on the sarcasm, hoping he won’t get too offended by my words. But I mean them.   
“So it’s my fault now? For being honest while the women lie to me?” He shakes his head. “No, I’m certain none of my partners so far have not reached climax and lied to me about it.”   
“And I am certain it happened and you didn’t realize.” I can jut my chin out, too, and narrow my eyes at him. He has not invented this expression.   
“And you say that based on…?”   
“Around 75% of women have faked an orgasm at some point of their lives. Statistically, if you had sex with four women, three of them are at least capable of faking it. And since men can’t tell in most cases, it’s pretty likely you can’t, either.” I snort a dry laugher. “I know at least that my partners couldn’t.”   
My hand flies to my mouth, this isn’t something I want to blurt out like this, especially not in an argument with Victor of all people.   
“You are faking orgasms? Isn’t that - dishonest? And on that basis you pretend to be an expert on this topic?” His smirk is driving me up the walls, this man just gets under my skin too easily.   
“It’s not ‘dishonest’. I’m not exactly proud of it but I don’t think I have to be ashamed, either. I just didn’t want my partners to feel bad.”   
Why am I justifying myself?   
“And I never said I was an expert. Just that you, Mr. CEO, most likely can’t tell the difference between an actual female orgasm and a faked one.” I pout, cross my arms in front of me.  
“I think it’s much more interesting to talk more about you faking it. So you have only been with men who were selfish in bed and too dense to realize you gave them a show. It’s somehow fitting, seeing as you are dense, too.”  
“Listen, it’s not a question of being selfish and dense, sometimes it just won’t happen. If you had any clue about how women really are, how we work, you wouldn’t say anything.” I snap at him, something I never did before. His expression darkens again, he gets up from his seat, fingertips resting on the desk.   
“‘Sometimes it just won’t happen.’ I never heard such a lame excuse before. Someone who really puts effort into it will make any woman come. No matter what.”   
My mouth opens and closes; it’s not even on purpose. How can someone so smart be so stupid?  
“Yeah, as if.” My voice is throaty, I’m croaking. He can’t be serious.   
His eyes narrow at me again, he straightens up to his full height.   
“You’re doubting me?”   
Why do I feel as if someone has just cranked up the AC? Cold in here for sure. I better choose my words carefully now.  
“Yes, I do.” Dammit, that wasn’t careful at all! I just signed my death sentence, and probably also that of my company. Me and my stupid big mouth!   
“Get over here,” he orders and my knees are giving out under me. Shit, shit, shit!   
“Are you going to throw me out of the window?” I ask, terror creeping up on me.   
“What? Don’t be stupid.” He sighs and shakes his head. A quick check of his watch and he exhales deeply. “I’m going to prove to you that you are wrong. Again.”   
My thoughts stutter to a halt, my throat is dry. And obviously there’s something wrong with my hearing because he can’t just have said what I think I heard. Nope.   
“What?” I squeak again, duck my head when he grunts in annoyance.   
“Ask ‘what’ one more time and I will really get angry. You said you did your research but obviously you didn’t. Fine, now we are both here and I offer you to show you where you are wrong. Is that so hard to understand?” He opens the cuffs of his sleeves, rolls them up and loosens his tie.   
“You mean, you want to-?” No, not going to happen. I mean, I’m not against it, he’s handsome and hot and all that. But this is too awkward and I already I can’t relax when he puts me on the spot like this. Wait a second.... if I can’t relax I can’t come and if I can’t come I can prove him HE is wrong.   
“Yeah, uhm, okay.” I will my shaking legs a few steps towards him, not fast enough judged on his expression.   
“What - I mean, how do you want to…?” He grabs my hand and pulls me closer, takes a step back and sits down on his chair again, pulls me into his lap.   
“I need more information first. Did they fail to make you enjoy yourself only during intercourse or didn’t they even manage to make you come during foreplay?” His lashes are so long, how can they be that long? And he smells so nice…  
“Uhm, they - I never - like, actually never came. Not with someone else.” I’m afraid to talk too loudly, don’t want anyone to overhear. My face is burning, I can feel my ears heat up, too.   
“But you are fine on your own?”  
I roll my eyes, only a guy can ask that.   
“I do have orgasms when I masturbate, yes,” I confirm. A girl has to take care of her needs after all.   
“Good, that’s all I need to know. I’m going to touch you now.” His hand already travels down my back but I freeze, my eyes dart to the door of his office.   
“What if someone walks in on us?”   
He tilts his head, follows my gaze briefly before he turns back to me. “Would that be distracting for you? The thought of someone interfering?”   
“Uhm, yes?” I’m not that kinky the idea of getting caught turns me on.   
“That’s probably part of your problem. You can’t switch your head off. Which is surprising considering you don’t use it for thinking much.”   
Ouch. The spark under my skin fizzles out, I clear my throat and pull back a bit.   
“Let me at least lock the doors.” Getting up from his lap isn’t as hard as I have expected and after turning the key I feel much safer already. Still, the whole situation is bizarre, very businesslike. Typical Victor.   
Before I can turn around I feel his hands on my hips. He pushes me against the door, I brace myself with my forearms pressed against the cool surface, my forehead resting against the back of my hands. He hikes up my skirt, his body so close to mine I can feel his warmth though the layers of clothes. I can feel it even better when he slips a hand into my panties, two fingers brushing over my folds, searching for my sensitive spots.   
I hate to admit that he knows what he’s doing. Once he finds my clit he circles it with slow strokes, just the right amount of pressure. His free hand is resting on my hip, holds the skirt up. My knees buckle as pleasure shoots up my spine, sends shivers through my body. But it’s not enough to tip me over the edge, not even when he grunts directly into my ear, his warm breath fanning my neck.   
My fingers curl against the wood of the door, my breath comes in sharp, short puffs - but I don’t come. I can’t.  
An alarm rings out behind me, makes me jump and Victor growl.   
“Time’s up,” he declares and steps back, pulling both hands away from me.   
I need a few breaths to come back to my senses. My panties are soaked now, my nether regions are tingling.   
“Did you hold back on purpose?”   
I straighten out my clothes, don’t answer his silly accusation until I’m presentable again.  
“No, I didn’t. But even if I had, didn’t you say it’s only about the technique? That you could make a woman come no matter what?” I lean against the door, my knees are still shaking and I’m afraid to trip if I try to walk over to the chairs again. “Would you have prefered I had faked it?”   
He snorts, sits down on his couch.   
“Are you sure you can reach climax when you’re on your own?”   
“Of course I’m sure! Are you sure you ever managed to get a girl off?” I’m grumpy, to my initial embarrassment now comes sexual frustration. I press my thighs together and wiggle a bit, far from any release.   
“Show me,” he demands and crosses his arms in front of him.   
“Show you what?” He can’t mean what I think he means, can he?  
“How you make yourself come.”  
He can. Obviously this isn’t awkward for him at all, he’s sitting there like always when I give him my report. Unfazed. Not a mess like I am right now.   
“Right here?”   
“What’s the difference between me making you come right here and you doing it yourself? Regard it as proving your earlier statement in the name of your research.” He’s grumpy, I’m wasting his time and I know he hates that. But then again, he started it.  
Slowly I make my way over to the visitor’s chair. Sit down. Take a deep breath. I spread my legs and scoot towards the edge just enough to comfortably push my hand into my panties, just like he did earlier. Close my eyes and focus on the touch of my hand. In my mind this overlaps with how his touch had felt earlier, purposeful strokes and circles. How his body had been pressed against mine, firm and warm. His breath against my skin, his scent, his sounds.   
My mind’s wandering to what else could have happened, but then I remember why I’m here and what I’m doing and my mood’s gone. This is just some sick business for him, it’s just to feed his ego and not about me as a person at all.   
“I - I can’t,” I admit in a low whisper, shame and frustration bringing tears to my eyes. I blink, pull my hand back and sit up straighter. This was a bad idea, a very, very bad one.   
“As I have thought.” There’s a smug smile on his lips as he nods to himself and it only fuels my self-bashing, prompting me to lash out.   
“I told you it’s not about the technique, but about the whole mood! Of course I can’t just snap my fingers and be into it! I’m a person, dammit, not some toy.”  
He raises an eyebrow at me, gets up and walks to my chair with three big steps.   
“I never said you’re a toy. You said you can come and since you agreed to perform your prove here, I assumed you could. If you are not comfortable here-” he explains and grabs my wrist to lift my index and middle finger towards his lips. “- say where you want to take this and we do.” He holds my gaze as he sucks my fingers into his mouth, tasting me. His low groan turns my knees into jelly, instantly the smoldering embers of my arousal flare up again.   
“M-my place,” I press out. I’m still most comfortable in my own home, with my own bed and - just in case - with my own toys.  
“Agreed,” he accepts and lets go of my fingers, but not my hand. “Before that, though, how about dinner?”   
I stare at him, befuddled by how this evening develops.   
“Dinner?” I squeak, clear my throat and gather my thoughts. Is he asking me out on a date? Do I want that?   
“Dinner sounds good,” I hear myself say and wonder what else this day has in store for me.


	2. Second try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to prove Victor that female orgasms are a topic worth researching...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a final part eventually... if life gives me a break :)

It wasn’t Souvenir but I guess he’s not in the mood to cook either. I spent most of dinner squirming in my seat, picking at my food and pushing it over the plate. Victor seemed a bit distracted, too, so after we finished our dinner I was relieved we could leave the restaurant and get to my place. 

I’m not relieved once I step inside, though, rather an anxious mess. 

“Uh, come in here, have a seat.” I quickly pick up some stray clothes and more notes. “Do you want something to drink?” 

“No, thank you.” He hovers at the doorstep, I have to point out the sofa two more times before he comes inside and takes a seat. 

My hands are trembling as I put some books away, I drop one so it hits the floor with a thud. 

“Sorry,” I mumble and quickly pick it up again. Okay, this is hardly any better than in his office. I need to calm down. 

For now I stay clear of my bed, instead I take a seat across from him. 

“I have no idea how to start.” My confession is joined by a dry chuckle, but it’s the truth. Should I just drop my panties and go for it? 

During dinner he kept staring at me, but not with his usual scowl. Even now I can feel his gaze on me, curious, calculating. 

“What would you do if you were alone?” he asks, ever the rational, composed CEO. 

“Dunno… get into the mood, I guess. I can’t just recreate the perfect scenario, usually it’s all about me relaxing and somehow the idea of - well, touching myself pops up.” It’s not as if I have a schedule for one-person fun times. When I’m in the mood, I go for it.

“I’m not sure we have the time for that today. You might want to speed up your-” he draws circles in the air with his hand, just rolling his wrist around, “-whole process.” 

Is there anything as unsexy and sobering as telling a woman to speed up? Not sure, but if there is, Victor will probably do it in the next five minutes. I feel slightly sabotaged by him; the only reason I let him get away with it is the fact he’s kinda my boss and insanely hot. As long as he doesn’t call me ‘idiot’ or ‘stupid’. 

He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers. 

“It can’t be that difficult, can it? Sit down, looks as if I have to help you out - again.” He points towards my bed but doesn’t move from his spot. So I plop down, hands in my lap - because that’s the point, isn’t it? - and wait for him to join me. But he doesn’t. 

“Lie back,” he orders and yeah, maybe following orders is easier than worrying and thinking for myself right now. Overthinking is a huge part of my problem to begin with.

“Get comfortable, and once you are, hike up your skirt.”

I shift around until I’m feeling okay before I grab the hem of my skirt and pull it up, letting it bunch around my hips. 

“Close your eyes, take a deep breath. Exhale again. Very good.” His voice is low now, and I think it’s the first time he ever praised me. I can hear him shifting on the couch. 

“Now, do you want to keep your panties on? Push them down? Take them off?” 

I haven’t thought about that yet. 

“I don’t mind either way.” Why making decisions when he can make them for me? 

“Fine. In this case, leave them on. Might add to the whole experience.” Whatever he’s planning, I’m game. With my hands resting next to me I wait for his instructions. 

“Start with dragging your fingertips from your knee up to your hips. Slowly.” 

I’m more brushing than dragging, the light touch raising goosebumps on my skin. 

“Now smooth both palms back down again.” 

He makes me touch my thighs some more, first only on the outside. 

“Slide your hands inwards,” he tells me after a while and I do, but stay clear of my panties. He hasn’t said anything about that yet after all. 

“Drag your nails over your skin. Not too much, just enough for some nice, red marks.” 

After the soft touches this is much sharper, I gasp at the new sensation. 

“Very good. You may touch yourself over your panties now. Keep it light.” 

The fabric is damp under my fingertips, I would love to get rid of it but I’m afraid to ruin the moment. 

“No pressure yet,” he reminds me and I can hear him shifting again. Probably leaning closer so he can watch me. I let my fingertips dance over the front of my panties, tease myself while I imagine how he’s watching me. 

“Now, are you in the mood to go on?” 

Is he making fun of me? My eyes snap open to glare at him but the sight of him on the edge of my couch, his jacket tossed to the side and his tie loosened a bit. But the thing that shocks me most is the look on his face. His eyes are dark, watching me like a hawk its prey. His lips are parted slightly, as if he’s panting. That can’t be, can it?

“So? Are you ready?”

I’m ready for a lot, but going on is also on that list. So I nod, close my eyes again and wait for his instruction. 

“Good. Slip your hand into your panties now. No stroking yet, just let the warmth of your palm seep into your skin.” 

The heel of my hand rests on top of my mound, my fingers just reach down to my entrance. 

“How do you usually touch yourself? Show me,” he demands and I do. At first I only move my fingers up and down my folds, coat them in my wetness so I can spread it a bit, around my clit. 

“That won’t do,” he curtly announces and I stop. “I can’t see anything. Take off your panties.” 

I hurry to do as I’m told, not gracefully or sexy but desperate and jittery. Once I’m rid of it I go back to touching myself, the tension already growing inside of me. Only - it’s not enough. 

For the third time this night I’m unable to reach my goal, despite how much I want it. I’m sweating, my legs are trembling but I just can’t let go.

I growl in frustration and cover my face with both hands. 

“This is really disappointing.” He sighs, but I don’t even look. “Let’s just say you proved your point, bringing women to orgasm is difficult and not everyone can do it.” 

Wow, did hell just froze over? Victor admits I’m right? 

“Not even you,” he adds. Yep, that sounds more like him. 

“It’s still a strange situation and I - goddammit, you’re not helping me by pointing out how disappointing this is for you.” 

Being frustrated makes me snap at him faster. But here I am, naked from my waist down, so wound up I feel like exploding just without the explosion part. 

“And do you want my help?” 

My brain lags a bit, I have trouble processing his words. 

“Your help?”

“Yes, you said I’m not helping. Does that mean you want me to help you?” 

Do I? Hell, yes! I nod but he clicks his tongue.

“I need you to say it. I’m not going to touch you without you saying it.” 

I look at him, how his chest rises and falls, at the bulge in his pants. 

“I - I want you to touch me,” I whisper. He gets up, joins me on the bed, but lies next to me. 

“Close your eyes,” he tells me once more. “And touch yourself again.” 

I’m so sensitive already, almost sore, I keep my touches light and slow. Whatever he’s planning, I’ll take my time. 

He presses his body tightly against mine, I can feel his arousal against my hip and his breath on my skin. 

“Do you have an idea what you’re doing to me?” His voice is low, hoarse almost. “Or what I want to do with you?” 

I whine, my fingers are so close to cramping, my muscles tense. 

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything. Except for this.”

His fingers join mine, strong but gentle. 

“You’re so wet,” he growls and I pull my hand back, curl it into the bedsheets instead. 

“Like this?” He circles my clit, like he did before but this time it feels so much better. I tilt my hips, press my heels into the mattress. 

“V-Victor…” 

He hums, presses his lips against my temple but keeps the pace of his fingers steady. 

“Talk to me more,” I stammer, my mind too blank to conjure any images that could help me over the edge. Plus, I like his voice when he’s not yelling at me. 

“About what? Do you want to hear how I would fuck you? How I want to bend you over my desk every time you come to my office? How I have to hold back to not just take you every time I see you?” He’s panting, swallows the saliva his own words and thoughts have caused to gather. I like how I make his mouth water, how open and honest he is right now. He rocks his hips against my side, yearning for some friction himself.

God dammit, whatever this is, it’s not just some pity fuck or business thing for him and exactly THAT realization tips me over. The tingling starts in my core, turns into a raging fire. Heat spreads through my body, runs through my veins and makes me tense up. Euphoria floods me when my mind blacks out for a second. Peace. Just for a split second before the second wave of my high hits me, and then another. And another. I’m trembling, sweating, gasping - it has never been this intense for me. 

When I can’t take it anymore I put my hand on top of his, still his movements. Just the sound of our breathing fills the room, his just as ragged as mine. 

“Wow… this… wow…” I giggle, drunk on pleasure. 

“You better not have faked this one,” he grumbles, but kisses my temple again. 

“If I had, my performance deserves an award.”

He hums again, nuzzles my neck and breathes in.

Our joined hands still rest on my sex, but now I come down again questions are swarming my mind. 

Was everything he said earlier true? Does he really want me like this? Do I want him like this, too? 

There’s still the insistent press of his hardness against my hip, and after everything that happened today I feel bold enough to slide one hand between us. 

“I guess you never faked an orgasm, did you?” I ask, teasingly squeeze him lightly. But he only scowls at me and scoots back. 

“This is not necessary.” 

Oh. I pull my hand back, fix my skirt so I’m not lying there all exposed anymore. 

“Sorry, I just thought-” 

“You didn’t think. Again.” He clears his throat and sits up, leaving me cold all of sudden. “You don’t owe me anything. This was - pleasurable for me, too. No need for you to pay me back in kind.” 

Oh! “But - you said you wanted to, you know, do stuff with me for a while now. And I figured, since I want that, too, we could…” I’m stammering, rambling. 

He stares at me, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “I always had the impression you were not interested in that kind of relationship with me.”

“Yeah, because you scare me witless most of the time. I mean, you are so strict and demanding and -” I’m not making this better, I realize as his expression darkens. “Oh, but I understand you only are so strict with me because you want me to succeed. And whenever we are talking about something else than just business, it’s different. So, I want to get to know that side of you better. And I’m definitely not against deepening the physical aspect of - whatever this is between us.” 

He seems to mull over my words, his head slightly cocked to one side. His hand cups my cheek, thumb rubbing over my cheek bone. 

“So you don’t hate me?” he asks and I lean into his touch. 

“No.” 

“But you are scared of me?”

“No. Not scared. Just nervous around you. I don’t want to disappoint you. Or waste your time.” 

He chuckles, I’m not sure I ever heard him laugh without a hint of sarcasm before. 

“Time spent with you is never wasted,” he says. His gaze drops to my lips, back to my eyes. I smile and move closer, just an inch. Yeah, this - this could be good. Really good. 

I close my eyes as his lips meet mine, melt into the sensation. Maybe we do things not in the proper order but I couldn’t care less. This feels heavenly.

I crawl into his lap, keep kissing him because that’s what I missed earlier, what I really needed. And somehow I get the impression, he needed this, too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all the foreplay it's time for the main show ;)

I lose track of time while kissing him; like everything he does he’s fully focused on what’s happening. Serious about driving me crazy and making my head spin with his kisses. Deep and greedy turns into playful and teasing just for him to almost devour me again. I have no chance to adjust, to anticipate his next move.   
When his lips travel down my neck I manage to remind him not to leave any marks.   
“Why not?” he chuckles against my skin. “You are mine now. I don’t mind if everyone sees it.”   
“But, but - it’s not very professional, is it?”   
He hums, tugs the collar of my shirt aside and presses his lips against my collarbone. A sharp pain later a deep red hickey blossoms on my skin.  
“If you don’t make it a habit, running around the office half naked, you can still keep your professional appearance while at the same time carry a nice reminder of being a little minx.”   
I only remember my state of undress when his hands find my naked bum. He cups my butt, squeezes lightly. I would love to say I don’t care that I’m sitting without panties in his lap – and at any other occasion, I probably wouldn’t – but he’s still wearing his pants and I’m afraid I ruined them for him. So I scramble off his lap, breathing ragged and my face burning with shame.  
“Did I – was this too forward?” He looks at me, flushed and with his pupils blown.  
“No, that was – perfect. Just – I can’t afford getting you new tailored dress pants, so…” I try not to look at the stain I already left there.  
“So you want me to take them off?” He dips his chin slightly, arches an eyebrow and smirks at me. Goddammit, this man is driving me nuts! In more way than just one. On the other hand…  
“Since you’re already offering, why not?” I drop to my knees in front of the bed, my hands find his belt buckle easily. I brush against the bulge in his pants while fumbling with the zipper and button, savoring the sound of his sharp inhale. When I look up I can see his eyes are closed, there’s a crease between his eyebrows.   
Mr. Cool and Collected can’t fool me, he’s just as turned on as I am. I tug at his pants until he lifts his hips so I can pull them down, but I leave his boxer briefs just where they are. Can’t make it too easy for him after all. For the same reason I lean in and nuzzle his groin, rub my face against his bulge until he groans. Before he can get too excited I get up again, push my skirt down and step out of the fabric pooling at my feet.  
He holds my gaze as I unbutton my shirt fully and let it slide off my body, followed by my bra. Only when I’m completely naked in front of him he lets his eyes roam.   
"All the times I wanted to bend you over my desk and decided against it… I was missing out on this?! There's some serious catching up to do," he growls and reaches for me. I happily tumble back into his lap, answer his greedy kisses with the same intensity.   
He flips me over, after a bit of shifting and twisting I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, propped up on his arms so I can trail my fingertips down his stomach to the waistband of his boxers. He bucks his hips, eager to get my hand where he wants it. But I take my time.   
Sex is more than just passion and satisfaction. It’s about connecting on a deeper level, at least for me. And yes, teasing each other is part of the fun for me. Cheap and fast release has its allure, but I want him to understand this is more than just a one night stand for me. I want to find all his sensitive spots, want to see his expression when he’s frustrated, when he’s delighted, when he’s so turned on he’s about to lose his mind.   
And I want him to experience all of my facets, too. I don’t hide anymore, don’t hold back my moans when he kisses his way down my body, from my neck over my collarbone to my breasts. He fondles and teases, licks my nipples and gently bites down on them until I squirm. With more kisses he inches his way downwards but I stop him, still too sensitive for him to continue.   
“I want to taste you,” he pouts - never would have thought I’d see Mr. Pokerface pout - and I can’t help but giggle.   
“I know. Maybe next time,” I promise and push against his shoulders until he rolls to the side. “For now I need a short break.”   
That doesn’t mean he gets a break, though. It’s my turn to trail kisses down his body, from his chest over his stomach, following the darker line of hair from his belly button to where it vanishes in his underwear. Which has to go. Right now.   
I hook my fingers in the silky fabric, tug it down and free his cock. Oh yeah, this is… yeah. After sliding the boxers down his legs I crawl up his body again, let my nipples brush over his cock, enjoy the way he tenses. His cock bobs up and down, as if approving of the attention it gets. I wrap my hand around it, squeeze lightly. Hard, thick, just perfect.   
I have condoms in a drawer, courtesy of a segment I once shot for a clinic informing especially younger people about the importance of safety during sexual encounters. Who would have thought I would actually use them in the end?   
It's a bit tricky to reach over and get the box from my nightstand drawer, but I manage without having to let go of his cock.  
"What-?" He props up on his elbows, watches me as I struggle to open the box with one hand and my teeth.   
"Mr. CEO, don't tell me you would risk anything?" Because I'm not willing to take any risks. I mean, he must have learned somehow to please a woman, and I figured he learned with other women. Nope, not even if he's the best man between the sheets ever.  
“Why do you have those?” His eyebrows inch closer again as he frowns at the one square foil package I managed to pluck out of the box.   
“Because I’m all grown up and this is the only way this is going to happen,” I let him know, my hand around his cock coming to a stop.   
“So, did you plan on having someone stay over here?”   
“Not someone,” I object. “Just you.”   
I’m not sure how exactly he does it but he grabs my waist and suddenly I’m on my back, with him hovering above me.   
“Are you trying to make me lose control on purpose?” he growls, wedges a knee between my legs until I open them for him. He takes the condom from me, rips the foil open and rolls it over his cock before he pulls me into place.   
“I’m not doing anything,” I stammer, still stunned by his display of strength and passion. Dammit, him getting all impatient with me really turns me on.   
He covers me with his body, I can feel his hard cock pressing against me.   
This is actually happening. Suddenly I have forgotten everything I have ever known about sex. What am I supposed to do? How should I move? What kind of sounds should I make? Sexy dirty talking?   
And then he positions himself, sends me one last heated glance before he pushes into me and I even forget how to worry.   
He’s perfect. Hot, hard, a tight fit. He doesn’t stop before he’s in all the way. With a deep groan he presses his lips on my forehead, gives me a second to adjust before he moves.   
I cling to him, his body is taut, his muscles working to keep him propped up so he won't crush me. My greedy hands roam his arms, shoulders and back; wherever I can reach. Every push and pull feels more intense than the last, and I'm still tingly and sensitive from my orgasm earlier. He grabs my hand, fingers laced together he keeps moving, taking both of us higher and higher.   
But despite his skill and effort, I already know I won’t get there again, not like this. Trapped between lust and frustration I groan, tilt my hips in hope to find that bit of friction I need. In vain. I slump back into the pillows, going slack.   
“What -?” His brow furrows, he stills and stares at me.   
“Nothing. This is - it’s incredible. Just…”  
“Just what?” He’s panting, some strands of his hair are sticking to his forehead.   
“Can I get on top?”   
My request, as small as it is, earns a scoff. Victor gets up a bit, just enough so the lack of his body warmth makes me shiver, not enough to pull out.  
"Why? Doesn't this feel good?" His lips are a tight line now, his jaw tense.  
"No, no, it feels great, but - you remember what I said earlier? About the mood being important? Right now I’m not really comfortable...” It’s hard putting it into words and for a second I’m afraid he brushes me off, but instead he just exhales, leans in to drop a kiss on my forehead and sits back.   
“Should I lie down or sit here?” he asks, and I just shrug.   
“Whatever’s more comfortable for you.”  
He scoots back until he sits with his back against the headboard and I straddle him, hold his cock with one hand and position myself. After I sink down on him, his hands on my hips help me find a rhythm. I brace myself with my hands on his shoulders while I figure out how to angle my hips to get some additional friction.   
It’s not easy and I’m squirming in his lap until Victor snarls and clicks his tongue. He snakes one hand between our bodies, his thumb grazes my clit and I yelp.  
“Like this?” he presses out and I nod frantically. Everything is just a bit too much, my legs are trembling but I can’t stop. Rocking against his body I’m so close to another climax, my body is moving on its own.   
Victor reaches around me, his hand on my ass pulls me closer, harder against his thumb. My fingers curl into his shoulders, I drag it out as long as I can but the pleasure wins, pulls me under and washes over me so I forget to breathe. I ride it out as good as I can, but in the end I slump against him, gasping for air, unable to take any more of this. He gently strokes my back, sending shivers over my skin.   
Once I calm down a bit I cup his face, kiss him softly and move again. Carefully.   
I lift my hips just to sink down again, grab his head and press his face against my chest, nose between my breasts. His muffled groan is all the approval I need to speed up. My fingers comb through his hair, nails scratching over his scalp. He inhales sharply, as good as he can with his head still buried in my boobs, and grabs my ass, guides me up and down his cock. My legs feel like jelly now, I’m light-headed and sweaty but for nothing in the world I would stop now. Not before I made him come, too.   
I reach behind me with one hand, following the curves of my ass until I can brush my fingertips over his balls. It’s tricky, it’s uncomfortable for me but it makes him jerk and curse lowly, so I keep doing this until his grip on my ass tightens and he slams me down on him once more. With a growl and a shudder he keeps me there, bucking his hips up to ride out his own climax.   
Once he stills we stay like this, close and both sated now. I almost doze off but jolt awake when he squirms beneath me.  
“You better get off now.”   
I chuckle, still high on endorphins. “I thought I just did. Twice.” Carefully I get off his lap, not without him pressing another kiss on my lips. I plop down on my bed, curl up a bit while he takes care of condom and joins me again.   
“This was - pleasant.” He lies on his back, right next to me, one hand stroking up and down my back.   
I hum, turn around to face him. So far we only acted, maybe we should talk now.   
“Victor, I-”  
“You still owe me a decent report,” he interrupts me, closing his eyes as he pulls me closer.   
“Oh, I thought… this time my report was actually good.” Except for this mix-up, which turned out to be a blessing. After I almost died of embarrassment of course.  
“The report was - not too bad.” From him this is high praise.   
“But this?” He tightens his hold on me, a small smile tugging at his lips. “This is actually perfect.”   
And for once I can only agree.


End file.
